Happy Piñata Day!
by Manchester
Summary: Ever since the Sunnydale collapse, the men, women, and non-humans of the New Council have gleefully embraced some truly bizarre holidays unique to their demon-fighting organization. Today is something really special, though.
1. Chapter 1

It'd started right away one morning, when Xander Harris strolled into the Cleveland Slayers House cafeteria. All he'd been thinking about then was breakfast, only to have his casual deliberations broken into while standing in line. Trying to decide between pancakes and waffles (with bacon, of course - mmm, bacon), the man just past his thirtieth birthday was interrupted by a cheery greeting from the first server behind the counter, "Happy Piñata Day, sir!"

Startled by those unexpected words, a taken-aback Xander could only mutter in return, "What? Oh, yeah, thanks."

Pushing his tray along the counter, the one-eyed man glanced around the crowded cafeteria filled with Slayers, Watchers, and the house staff. These other people were eating, drinking, and talking with their compatriots sharing the room's dining tables. All of them seemed to be in the same pleased mood, too. Which was genuinely odd, considering it was Monday and the rest of the workweek stretched discouragingly ahead. By the time Xander got to the end of the counter and picked up his tray now filled with his first meal of the day, he'd overhead again at least a couple more times the same greeting among the rest of the New Council personnel in the room.

Retreating to his private table in the west corner, which was one of the perks of being Head of the House, Xander ate his breakfast. During this, he marveled at how quickly an absurd, long-ago drunken attempt at revenge had turned into a cherished weird tradition for the Cleveland residents of the New Council's Midwest branch. Between sips of his coffee, Xander cast a jaundiced eye around the entire cafeteria crowd. He was more than willing to bet they'd wouldn't miss for the world what was going to happen at high noon in the back yard.

Sure enough, several hours later, Xander leaned against the trunk of a mature tree. This large maple was shading the rear garden of a converted hotel now the headquarters of a secret supernatural group devoted to protecting the Earth from demons and other unholy monsters. Or, at least this was what most of the people here were _supposed_ to be doing, instead of skipping out on their usual responsibilities and jobs to gather here today. Cynically shaking his head in sheer exasperation, the former Sunnydale resident looked around the vicinity again.

Things were exactly the same as they'd been for the last couple of years during this observance, with only the faces of the crowd having changed. A chattering mob of his presumed hard-working subordinates were excitedly congregated along the edges of the main lawn directly behind the hotel. Otherwise, this grassy area was completely deserted, with the expectant crowd staying in place while either staring at the unassuming lawn, or checking their watches. Xander was also about to do the latter, until two things occurred simultaneously.

First, the large clock set in the front of the main central tower of the hotel began to chime, with the double hands of this timepiece hidden from the crowd surely pointing at 12:00. At the same moment, there was a blinding flash of light throughout the back lawn.

You could tell who were the newbies right away. They'd been the ones caught gazing directly into that dazzling magical illumination, and were now blinking and rubbing at their eyes in reaction to this. Another clue was these peoples' jaws instantly dropping at finally seeing what they'd been told about but hadn't really believed. Until now, that is.

Two rows of six metal poles had just materialized from out of nowhere on the lawn, with these being planted upright there like some very strange additional trees. A trio of these poles, about as thick and tall as more prosaic wooden telephone poles, were the exact copies of another three poles twenty feet across the lawn, down to the horizontal strips of metal attached to the top of every pole. At the tips of these 'T' shapes, heavy-duty steel cables were fastened which had their other ends dangling almost down to the ground. Rather than terminating in a simple cut-off piece just above the grass, those dozen cable ends instead spread out into a spherical net of thick wires looking capable of holding securely fast within themselves just about anything. Or at least they seemed so, given how all those nets were currently empty.

Xander just rolled upwards his remaining eye in weary resignation, waiting for the rest.

Again, almost like before, another but slightly weaker burst of magical light discharged. After the illumination faded, this revealed a six-foot long metal staff hovering in mid-air at a position in front of every single cable net. Continuing to float without any discernable means of support, each of the twelve staffs had a bulbous end of some soft, foam-like white material. However, on the opposite side the staffs, this other end flared outwards into an oval, flat paddle consisting of the hard metal making up the remainder of the staff.

Over the eager murmur of the crowd, a loud voice from one of the Cleveland House's support personnel being the master of ceremonies for today now announced, "Okay, people, those of you who won the draw, come on up and pick your place!"

In response, a dozen individuals immediately stepped forward from the crowd around the lawn. The ensuing jockeying for position finished with each of those participants standing in front of the staffs, which chosen tools were then snatched up from their floating positions.

Naturally, the Slayers in this small group handled the staffs with superhuman expertise. The girls imbued with Sineya's spirit and powers, ranging in age from fourteen to a decade older, now spun, twirled and thrust these imitation weapons in mock attacks against imaginary enemies. The other normals were far less skillful, but even the most awkward Watcher-in-training essayed an enthusiastic swing or two in the manner of using a baseball bat.

Mentally sighing, Xander also made an internal note to himself to stiffen up the House self-defense courses. Some of those guys out there on the lawn were clearly slacking off, which couldn't be allowed. In his grumpy mood, Xander then snarled under his breath to nobody in particular, "Why the hell don't we just call today what it's really about, our own gonzo version of Happy _Human _Piñata Day?"


	2. Chapter 2

The whole ridiculous affair began a while back, when a perfect storm of unintended consequences all came together. Xander had been in his first year as Head of the Cleveland House, and he was gingerly becoming accustomed to being regarded as the sensible, mature adult in charge of things. Among everything else, this soon resulted in him requested by Giles to oversee the delicate negotiations to successfully sway a neutral demon clan in Chicago uncertain about seeking the protection of the New Council without any enemies learning about the meeting. So, the former California high-school slacker had been away from the Ohio city now possessing its very own Hellmouth when Willow Rosenberg and Dawn Summers showed up there at the same time, both looking to have a good, long, comforting cry on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the necessary security of the discussions between Xander and some really fugly creatures of the night kept him out of touch with everyone back at his new residence. Afterwards, the younger Summers sister and a certain redhead always steadfastly maintained this absence (no matter the required cause for it) meant everything which next occurred was somehow completely and totally _his_ fault.

Making themselves at home in Xander's apartment in the Cleveland House, Willow and Dawn presently learned they were here because of identical unhappy motives, which could be best summarized up in two words: relationship problems. Dawn's latest boyfriend at Oxford had messily dumped her a few days ago. As for Willow, this witch's long-time liaison with Kennedy had turned into an even worse disaster. Incredible as it might seem, that lesbian Slayer cheating on her lover decided out of the blue not just to bat for the other team, but she'd taken up with a pair of demon-hunting brothers. It was around this point when Willow broke down, leaving a rather confused Dawn with the impression Kennedy was in a ménage à trois with a couple of guys named Rifle or something like this.

Inwardly deciding to wait until a bit later before trying to find out more, Dawn then declared to a miserable Willow they both deserved a girls' night in. Just the two of them, with lots of alcohol, junk food, loud music, dumb movies, and thoroughly trashing the reputations of their former significant others.

* * *

Early the following morning, Xander warily sidled into his apartment. He had no problems whatsoever in passing through the front door with its magical wards now set on this portal, which certainly hadn't been there two days ago. Except for some reason, nobody else in the hotel last night had succeeded in getting inside through these or even contacting the occupants there and making whoever was playing Alanis Morissette's _Jagged Little Pill_ at eardrum-shattering volume turn it down.

Though, however annoying this noise had been, what then ensued was a lot more terrifying to the Cleveland House's inhabitants. At precisely midnight, an enormously powerful spell had been cast from Xander's apartment. This tooth-rattling, bowel-loosening, hair-raising enchantment was felt by every single person in the hotel, whether Slayer, Watcher, witch, werewolf, friendly demon, house staff, what have you.

The very next second, the music blasting from Xander's quarters had abruptly cut off, leaving behind only a very ominous silence.

A panicky phone call had then been made to a sound-asleep man in a Chicago Embassy Suites telling him all this, causing Xander to rush home at once from the completed demonic negotiations. There weren't any flights at the moment from the Windy City to Cleveland, so a frantic Xander sped eastwards through the night in his rented car. Eventually, the house personnel found an airport along the way with someone there willing to take Xander by private plane for the rest of the trip (at a truly outrageous fee, natch). But in the end, he made it with the first light of day shining upon the clock face of the hotel tower when Xander scrambled out from his taxi ride and ran into the Slayers House.

Several moments later, the nervous staff clustered down the hotel corridor watched their boss walk without any trouble through the protective shields guarding his apartment. Not even the strongest magic-wielder of them all there had even managed to scratch the Red Witch's wards, but Xander just turned the doorknob, went inside, and gently closed this panel behind himself.

Xander stood there just inside the apartment hallway, staring down in disbelief at the numerous shiny disks of music CD's and cinema DVD's which had been opened from their protective boxes and casually scattered around to cover every square inch of the floor. Judging from a quick count, it looked as if a good part of his whole media collection had recently been dropped and forgotten there. Shuffling forward to avoid stepping onto and breaking the disks, Xander slowly made his way along the hallway, nudging aside with his feet everything from jazz to film noir to Cruxshadows to Sergio Leone. A pause was made by him at the wall entranceway leading to his living room, where the rest of his movies and music were also strewn around the whole place. Not just on the carpeting, but over every other bit of flat space there - the chairs, tables, bookcases, tops of the lamps, etc. At the far end of the room, the extra-large flat screen TV patiently blinked its message that someone should please remove the finished movie from the DVD player.

Xander sighed.

In the very next breath, this man then inhaled a genuinely alarming smell of burned plastic and other vile odors. Sniffing a few more times to check this out, Xander anxiously resumed his careful hallway walk until he got past the last of the discarded disks just before his kitchen. Or, at least what _had_ been his kitchen. This food-preparation area now resembled a cross between a mad scientist's chemical lab, a garbage dump, and a blasted heath.

The remaining eye of an original Scooby Gang member started to bulge in shock. Xander gawked at such disquieting items in his kitchen as:

A melted blender puddled atop the counter.

The sink completely filled with empty liquor bottles.

Torn wrappers scattered around from every one of the main four junk food groups known as sweet, salty, crunchy, and gooey.

Several ice-cream cartons, ice cube trays, and other frozen groceries dripping their contents to the floor from the left-ajar freezer door of the refrigerator.

Finally, scorch marks extended from the sides of his wall-mounted microwave all the way up to the ceiling. There, a large charred circle gaily defaced the plaster.

Beginning to wrathfully grind his teeth, Xander took a step to the left to view what other gustatory carnage had been recently wreaked in his kitchen, only for his foot to land on something soft there on the floor. Instinctively flinching away from this unexpected sensation, the Head of the Cleveland House glanced down at a crumpled bit of fabric lying on the carpet. A cautious prod with his boot toe revealed this surprising object to be…Hello Kitty panties?

The man's gaze drifted up the hallway, observing even more clothing items of a generally feminine nature also cast off in the exact direction pointing to his bedroom.

In due course, Hawkeye Xander, the greatest tracker on the Plains, stood in front of his nearly-shut bedroom door, and he extended an stiff index finger. Pressing the tip of this digit against the door, he lightly shoved it open, to reveal what he'd been pretty much expecting.

On the top of Xander's bed where they'd collapsed together at the stroke of midnight, two stark-naked women laid on their sides just a few inches apart, with their upper arms thrown over the other's limp body. Both fast asleep in a drunken stupor, the mouths of these young ladies were wide open, producing copious amounts of drool. This was accompanied by Willow and Dawn snoring loudly in unison right into their unresponsive bed partner's face.

Pensively nodding to himself, Xander reached for his right front pants pocket. Pulling out from there his smartphone, he took a dozen pictures of premier blackmail material.

Some moments after the above, Dawn's slack features scrunched up in sudden confusion, without this woman opening her eyes. Despite her present state of near-total unconsciousness caused by last night's competition with Willow over who could down the most chocolate-ice-cream-and-Kahlúa smoothies, a noise close by had momentarily managed to attract the Key's attention. That is, until Dawn's awareness decided it was nothing to be worried about, and she happily went back to her alcoholic slumber while ignoring how a shower had just been turned on at full blast.

A good while later, after the usual shrieks, screams, cursing, vomiting, and other clichéd results of being damply awakened into hangovers deserving honorable mention in the Guinness Book of World Records, Willow and Dawn sat on opposite ends of the sofa in Xander's den. Dressed in their friend's bathrobe and its spare, the two glum women with drenched hair tremblingly clutched half-empty paper cups of water and waited for the painkillers they'd just swallowed to start working. Both also did their best to take no notice of the man sprawled out in the corner armchair and balefully eyeing them seated together.

Alas, a cleared throat soon made these Sunnydale ladies cringe. Especially when this came with Xander's first question delivered with real menace, "Okay, party girls, what'd you _do?_ Besides destroying my apartment, that is."


	3. Chapter 3

In Xander's irritated opinion years later while he continued to learn against the backyard tree, the most discouraging part of the whole affair was that nobody had _ever_ arrived at any kind of reasonable answer to this query. Not then, or subsequently. Dawn and Willow always sheepishly insisted their memories of everything happening that night were a perfect blank a few hours into their drunken carousing. Nor could the Red Witch use her magical powers to regain what she'd forgotten, or find those possibly-hidden recollections elsewhere in her mind, or travel back in time to watch the fun, or a half-dozen even dumber suggestions freely offered by those fortunate enough to be let in on the secret of the terrible twosome's spur-of-the-moment casting.

All because of the little flesh-colored bandage still stubbornly clinging to the tip of Dawn's shower-wrinkled left pinky, when she was being put through an increasingly fruitless interrogation by Xander the morning after in his apartment den. A quick "Ow!" yelped by Dawn after giving this bandage a tentative pinch revealed there to be good reason for this application of a sterilized cloth strip upon a pinprick of some kind, which certainly hadn't been there yesterday. At the same time, Willow morosely confirmed to the others her inner scans had just discovered the Key's talent to open portals to other dimensions had inexplicably combined itself in some one-of-a-kind manner with the witch's own abilities at, oh, about six or seven hours ago.

"Midnight," hollowly identified Xander, letting his head fall forward to drop his face into a receptive palm.

Feeling a massive surge of guilt rise up in her mind, Dawn turned to appeal at a slightly cross-eyed Willow doing some more internal checks, "Listen, Wils, can't you use your magic to figure out what happened, even if neither of us remembers it?"

This bought Dawn one of the dirtiest looks she'd ever received, when Willow also snapped to her in response, "I don't have any idea where to start! All my magic can get now is that we did _something_ together! For all I know, we sent Kennedy and your boyfriend to another dimension and in there, they're married and the stars of some reality television show named 'K Plus Eight!'"

There was a short silence in the room while the three people in there thought about this.

Eventually, Xander buried an evil snicker in his hurried cough, to then point out, "Um, guys, I agree that needs to be followed up later. For now, let's get back to how you were feeling then and what this might've set off. Is there any possibility you got the attention of some double-you demon?"

"Not a chance," Willow firmly contradicted Xander. She went on, "The whole hotel's warded against D'Hoffryn's minions, you know that. Besides, I've just looked at my protections again, and I didn't tamper with them last night, anyway."

"Does that include the wards on my apartment now?" sardonically retorted Xander, a mocking eyebrow raised high.

The witch's gaze became unfocused, until an instant later, her ears turned bright red. Waving a hand in a mystical gesture, Willow guiltily mumbled, "Sorry, that's been fixed. I also told your people we're fine, and they can get back to work. Errr…your place's been cleaned up too, except the blender and microwave are pretty much a lost cause, I'm afraid. More to the point, Dawn should be the one to replace them, seeing as she must've messed up those things."

"Hey!" indignantly began Dawn, only to wince and touch her throbbing forehead with the fingertips of her free hand. Taking a gulp of water from her cup, this young woman started all over again in the same offended tone but at a much lower volume, "You can't prove anything!"

Xander got up from his den armchair at that point. Standing there, the man dryly commented, "Says the Scooby who last Thanksgiving tried to deal with the leftovers by shoving the rest of the whole turkey into her sister's blender and setting it on high!" Grinning at Dawn sticking her tongue out at him, Xander left the room to verify for himself his apartment was indeed back to normal.

When it was just the two of them there, Dawn thoughtfully glanced at her good friend since Sunnydale. As for this redhead, Willow was again looking somewhat preoccupied. Her concentration was promptly interrupted by a worried question, "Did I really break Xander's stuff last night, Wils? More important, what the hell else did we do?"

Willow unhappily shrugged. "I honestly have no idea, Dawnie. It's all still a blank, but at least after another check of everything here, I can't find anything wrong."

In a very tiny, nervous voice, Dawn unwillingly pointed out, "Not _here,_ maybe. You don't think what you said a minute ago really came true? Us doing something bad to that bastard and that bitch, whose names I'm never ever gonna mention again?"

"No, thank Gaia!" gratefully exclaimed Willow. Noting Dawn's puzzlement, the witch told her, "I did it as fast as possible, checking up on them too without either knowing about it, but they're in this dimension and alive and well, for what it's worth. Not that I ever want to see or talk to…"

"What?" prompted a suddenly concerned Dawn at observing Willow's vacant gaze after her statement trailed off into brooding quietude for a few moments.

Bringing her attention back to the den, Willow scratched her chin intently. "It's too hard to pin down. For a fraction of a second there, I got the vaguest impression we set up some way to settle…scores? No, that doesn't work." Willow narrowed her eyes towards Dawn, who was herself appearing at something of a loss. "You're great at languages. Give me some other words for revenge, will you?"

"Oh, so I'm a walking thesaurus now?" snarked Dawn at Willow. This other woman responded by impatiently nodding several times before staring with a genuinely expectant air in Dawn's direction. Grumbling under her breath, the Key thought for a moment or two, before saying, "Well, naturally because of Anya, the first word which comes to mind is vengeance. How's that?"

Willow merely shook her head.

Rolling her eyes, Dawn tried again, "Payback? Retailation? Reprisal? Reckoning? Retribution? Say, it'd be interesting to find out how many words starting with 're-' have to do with the subject-"

"Wait, go back!" Willow excitedly broke in. "The last one, what's it mean?"

Dawn blinked in confusion at the elated witch. "Retribution? Uh, something justly deserved. Another definition's, I think, something done or given to somebody as punishment or vengeance for something he or she has done."

"Yes, that's it, exactly!" declared Willow, with an actual edge of triumph now in her tone.

Dawn cooed, "How nice. What did we do, exactly?" She finished off that last comment with the same sarcastic manner.

Willow opened her mouth, only to abruptly shut it again, all while a flood of scarlet swept up under the woman's fair skin from the collar of her bathrobe to completely cover her blushing features. She finally muttered, "I still haven't figured that out yet, okay? But I'm sure it's got something to do with retribution, even if we were totally blitzed and did a magical spell far beyond our normal weirdness-" Stopping short in her assertion, Willow unexpectedly sniffed the air, right before prayerfully asking, "Is that _coffee?_"

An astonished Dawn just stared at Willow beginning to discreetly slaver, until delicious scents further wafted their way from outside the den. This was followed by Xander staggering into the room under the heavy load of a massive dining tray loaded with a great many plates, glasses and pots, all filled with scrumptious food and drink. Carefully sinking down onto the sofa between a frozen Willow and Dawn, Xander settled the tray in his lap, and he breezily announced to his friends, "Breakfast, ladies! The kitchen sent it up when your mojo told 'em it was safe, Wils. I also arranged with Melanie, our House Mom, to replace your clothes with new outfits of sweats. She'll leave those outside- Mmmm!"

This last gleeful sound was due to Xander being enthusiastically given a simultaneous double-kiss on his cheeks from Dawn and Willow. These women then starvingly fell upon with both hands the array of breakfast delicacies. Chuckling, Xander started eating from his own plate. In between this, the one-eyed man was informed amid loud munching and sipping by the female pair about what they'd just established.

Which soon further led to some weepy discussion on exactly why the Sunnydale girls had dropped in on their Xander-shaped friend in the first place. However, there wasn't all that much disheartened talk as might be expected. It could've had something to do with how Willow and Dawn had already blown off most of their emotional steam last night, even if they still didn't recall precisely what'd transpired then. An additional reason may perhaps have been to avoid spoiling their superb breakfast due to, for example, turning their yummy fruit danish soggy with tears. Or, maybe, it was due to the constant, loving hugs given to his visiting family by a man who clearly showed no matter the distressing reasons for it, he adored having them around.

An hour later, more embraces were traded among the trio. In his once-more tidy living room, Xander reluctantly let go of both women starting to gasp in his lengthy squeeze. Taking a step back while doing an offhand swipe at his eyes (*Gotta be the dust, you betcha*), Xander smiled at a sweatsuit-clad Dawn and Willow affectionately gazing back at him.

It was the witch who spoke first, "All right, Xan, we'll tell you first thing if either of us remembers more about last night."

"Uh-huh," agreed Dawn, who then grimaced over what'd just come into her head, a more recent memory of a very embarrassing apology she and Willow had made together to the entire Cleveland House over disrupting the residents' sleep.

Xander smirked at the Key, as if he'd just read her mind. This wouldn't have surprised Dawn at all, not after their years together. His gaze shifting back and forth, the man told both women, "You need to talk about something else, or want to come here again, do it anytime, okay? Just do me a little favor: call ahead in advance so I'll be here. If not, I'll leave a message with someone so you know where I am."

Dawn and Willow glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. These woment then glowered in unison at Xander sincerely looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It was his kindergarten pal who accused, "You're never going to let us forget about what we did here, are you, Xan?"

Upon hearing this from Willow, Xander's air of perfect innocence appeared to reach angelic levels. He assured the pair skeptically gazing at him, "Hey, it wasn't all that much of a bother. After you apologized and I cooled down, we had a good laugh about it, didn't we? It'll just be a minor Scooby story if I ever mention it to the others."

Now it was Dawn's turn to snort, "Yeah, and there's no way you won't be planning the perfect time, place and occasion for bringing it up to Buffy and the rest!"

"Would I do something like that?" inquired Xander in his most hurt tone.

With faultless synchrony, Willow and Dawn loudly announced, "_YES_!"

Drawing himself up in mock dignity, Xander then spoiled his fun by impudently winking at the two women. Also unable to help themselves, the Key and the Red Witch burst into mutual giggles, and they stepped forward to give him one last parting hug.

As ever the man eagerly hugged them back, all too conscious of the smartphone resting in his pants pocket. After he picked the clearest picture there and wiped all the others, that little photo of Dawn and Willow sharing the most mortifying moment of their lives was gonna be his limited edition, tightly-restricted Christmas card for the inner circle of the New Council. He already had the ideal caption for it: Not A Creature Was Stirring.

Happily waving goodbye a little bit later, Xander watched Willow tuck Dawn's arm into hers, and with matching cheerful farewells, these ladies standing side-by-side magically vanished from his apartment. A second from now, the pair would be back in England for the younger Summers sister to return to her studies, and then Willow would teleport herself to Scotland. Bringing down his hand, Xander looked around at his familiar living room, which seemed to be emptier than usual. His formerly buoyant mood beginning to diminish into actual loneliness, the man already missing his family sadly sighed once.

Allowing himself a few more moments of melancholy, Xander soon shook off feeling down in the dumps. He sternly gave himself an inner pep talk, pointing out he needed to return to ably running the Cleveland House, protecting the world from all the evil demons around the Hellmouth here, and keeping his Slayers and Watchers on the job without those dear little maniacs ever suspecting how many headaches they caused him. Yep, time to get back to work.

Without further ado, Xander strode out of his apartment, on the way downstairs to his office and the ceaseless paperwork there. For once, he was actually looking forward to burying himself in bureaucratic red tape in an attempt to get over his recent blues. And in truth, this was how things worked out for the next couple of hours, with Xander being so zealous about it that he managed to clear off his whole L-shaped desk by lunchtime.

The one-eyed man rewarded himself for this by leaning back in his executive chair and putting his boots on his bare desktop in celebration. Licking his lips in anticipation, Xander lazily reached out to the side with one hand at the short end of the desk where the meal he'd ordered in today had been left there a minute ago by one of the house staff. There, awaiting its doom, a thick, freshly made roast beef sandwich cowered on the plate shared by its fellow victims of a large pickle and a mound of potato chips.

Barely registering the office's antique grandfather clock at the other end of the room about to announce it was noon, Xander grabbed the sandwich. Bringing this food of the gods up to his face, the Sunnydale survivor happily inhaled the scent of warm sliced meat garnished with piquant horseradish sauce…


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of years later, Xander Harris _still_ hadn't gotten over it. That roast beef sandwich had been absolutely perfect, dammit!

However, after being frantically summoned in the middle of his first bite at the news of something very strange appearing in the hotel backyard, there was nothing but disappointment in the making for him hours later. By the time he'd gotten back to his office, a very grumpy Xander was left with a tasteless, room-temperature sandwich plus a large stain on his desk where all the horseradish leaked off the meat and bread onto the furniture. Adding even more insult to injury, the pickle had loathsomely transformed from its proper crunchiness into a mushy bit of cucumber.

He didn't even feel like eating any of the potato chips.

His grouchy mood probably commenced at the exact moment when Xander got outside to the rear lawn, only to find the Slayers, Watchers, and others eating their own lunches or otherwise relaxing there had already figured out what to do with their newest toys. Giving an appalled look at the ludicrous scene laid out before him, Xander despairingly groaned, "_Willow!_"

* * *

_Whack!_

"OW! You didn't have to do that so hard!"

"Oh, stop being such a big baby! I didn't, anyway."

"Yeah? My butt says different!"

After saying the last, Xander turned around to glare at the person across from him, all while rubbing at his sore rear. Willow ignored this to instead thoughtfully give the staff she was holding another experimental swing. The witch hastily recalled back from Scotland then announced, "No, what I meant was, the safety measures put on the clubs won't allow anyone to hit harder with them than I just did to you. Even Slayers with their muscles won't be able to overcome this, no matter how hard they try."

In their position under the small glade of trees in the hotel's rear garden, Xander glanced past Willow at the main lawn further on. There, he saw two superhuman girls had teamed up to energetically bat back and forth between themselves one of the captives currently confined inside a wire net at the end of the steel lines. Swaying to and fro from the dangling cable, this trapped person seemed to be approaching frothing insanity. This was probably due to being unerringly targeted upon a certain part of his anatomy hidden under the black robe this stranger was wearing.

Every time he came near one of the warrior women, that girl easily corrected for any attempts of the mature man to dodge. Instead, she gave him a brisk wallop on his backside with the paddle end of her club.

Even more impressive was how both Slayers followed up on these blows with a measure of billiards-style english, which caused the net and its hapless contents to twirl around and then present the proper end while sweeping towards the other young lady waiting with her club to inflict yet another painful clout.

Judging from the way this pasty-faced man's mouth was rapidly opening and closing, he was definitely yelling threats and demands in between the loud howls of agony after again receiving an enthusiastic spank from either of the girls. Or at least that's what Xander figured, seeing how no sound whatsoever came from there or elsewhere on the lawn to disturb the former Sunnydale residents in their own private magical bubble which blocked any kind of outside noise.

Following Xander's gaze, Willow snickered, "Looks like Angela and Julie picked the 'creep' setting on the clubs right away for that guy."

The one-eyed man shot his friend a truly exasperated look, while grumbling, "So, which one of you had fun thinking up all this last night? Nothing points right to you or Dawn, but I've got my suspicions. What you named the other end of the club a moment ago, it just happens to be the word me and Jesse got called by you almost every day in junior high!"

A sweetly-sad smile flitted over Willow's mouth at the mention of their long-gone friend, but she next lifted a scathing eyebrow. "Hey, both of you were horrible boys back then! I had good reason to get into your faces whenever Jesse and you did something really stupid or otherwise acted like a big jerk!"

The woman flipped over the club she was still gripping, vigorously shaking the bulbous end now held high at chest level into Xander's direction. Willow seemed to just be getting warmed up, as shown by the aggravated gleam in her eyes when she continued, "Believe me, I would've constantly poked you two with this 'jerk' end here to make you behave!"

Xander merely smirked at Willow's tirade, until his attention was caught by something else on the lawn. Nodding at there, the man asked, "Wils, can you let me hear what Matt's yelling at the kid? Though, I think I already know."

"What?" frowned Willow.

She suspiciously eyed the spot on the lawn which Xander was staring at, wondering if he was trying to distract her from a justified harangue. However, across from the pair in the trees, a trainee Watcher for the Cleveland House was now standing in front of another captive inside a different wire net. This young man learning how to mentor and guide a Slayer was in the middle of energetically prodding with the blunt end of his staff the flinching body of the teenage boy held hostage inside the net. During this uncomfortable process, Matt Westcliffe was also evidently giving a good piece of his mind at full volume to the bewildered prisoner.

Feeling curious herself, Willow nodded once in the direction of this pair. She and Xander then clearly heard, as if they were just a few feet away from the other two guys, "-you never thought of bringing your family photo album to the breakfast table, going through it, and comparing any pictures there of your mom with your best friend's sister? That's just _sick_, dude! Besides, you already had a really fine potential girlfriend hanging around for the last couple of years, right by your seat on the bench-"

Chuckling, Willow nodded again, and the tirade cut off just as abruptly as it'd begun. She dryly asked Xander in their regained bubble of silence, "So what's he a fan of, the actress or her character?"

"Both," a very fed up Head of House replied through his gritted teeth. Xander further groused, "Matt managed to get her autograph at the New York premiere of one of the films near the end of the series. He keeps that in what can't be described as anything else but a really disturbing shrine to her in the corner of his bedroom."

Giving a little all-over shudder, the former Sunnydale carpenter then glumly stared at the large crowd clustered around the last person of the very familiar trio who'd recently been magically abducted from their previous existence in their home dimension. There were too many people there in the circle of Watchers and Slayers surrounding the net containing this elderly man to see him in there now. Although, the incensed mood of this mob was quite unmistakable, given away by the angry brandishing of their staffs accompanied by the occasional thrusting motion with these towards the hidden individual being shouted at by all around him. However he might've been portrayed in other media, nobody at the Cleveland House was in the least bit any kind of admirer of this scheming old coot passing himself off as a grandfatherly character in charge of a certain private Scottish school.


	5. Chapter 5

It had to be institutional memory, Xander took a quick moment to muse in private. Through their Slayer dreams, the young girls now possessing Sineya's spirit could experience first-hand the cost to their previous warrior sisters from what other uncaring men had arrogantly expected and ordered. Furthermore, the openness presently mandated by the New Council over what that bastard Travers and his ilk had done in the past meant the novice Watchers could now read for themselves centuries of their precursors' journals, diaries and reports covering such horrors as the Cruciamentum. Which wasn't necessarily the worse thing to have been dishonorably meted out by their superiors against those desperate few trying to personally hold the line against darkness.

Nope, Mr. Whiskers there wasn't going to win any friends today, for sure.

Xander sighed, to then glower at where Willow was innocently gazing up at the bright blue sky, arms crossed across her chest, and humming a sprightly tune under her breath. Clearing his throat, which ended in a menacing rasp, Xander lifted a commanding index finger as if to start counting down towards where Willow was now regarding him with a truly fine deadpan.

"Okay, let's go through everything again. Last night when you and Dawnie were dead drunk, somehow your different brands of mojo got together and decided to make my life even more hectic than usual. For whatever reason, the pair of you figured out a way to kidnap up to maybe a dozen people from other dimensions. Said kidnappees can be _anyone_ from _anywhere,_ even completely fictional characters and places, but they'll always be what two women tanked to the gills gigglingly dubbed 'jerk' and/or 'creep.'"

At this part of his biting summation, Xander made mocking air quotes with his fingers at where Willow was rolling her eyes. Ignoring his lifelond friend's sudden irritation, the man derisively continued, "So far, the only good news I've heard about the whole fiasco is that our guests won't be here for long, can't use any of their own magic or other powers if they've got these to get loose or keep from being whacked like a carnival game mole, _and_ this won't happen again…until next year to the exact day!"

Stopping to glare at where the most powerful witch in the entire world was giving him a decidedly dangerous look in return, Xander threw all caution to the winds by snarling, "Did I overlook anything?"

"Yes!" Willow angrily snapped. "Why're you being such a poopy-pants about this?"

This brought a horrified "Shhh!" from Xander, along with him making frantic shushing motions with his hands. He shot a panicky stare at where the mob of Slayers possessing superhuman auditory senses were still far too involved in their torment of today's unanticipated company to take any notice of what'd just been said by the witch. Xander then breathed a sigh of genuine relief at seeing nobody there heard Willow past her silencing spell.

Switching his attention once more to a smirking redhead, Xander huffily retorted, "You know we settled it back before fourth grade between us three the things we'd never tell anyone, no matter what! Me, the time when Jesse dared me to drink a really big glass of your dad's prune juice, and your own reaction after he dropped a rubber frog down the front of your dress the same summer! Or am I allowed now to let people know how you completely ripped off your dress and ran screaming around the backyard in just your grandma panties and sneakers?"

"Never," implacably replied Willow, bestowing upon Xander her most unyielding Resolve Face.

The two close comrades continued to scowl at each other, until a woman's voice grudgingly broke the sudden tense mood between them, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. That stays between us, always and forever like we swore. But, Xan, it's still a good question. What's making you so cranky now?" During her question, Willow's tone had changed from annoyance into actual curiosity.

Xander's own grouchy temper shifted equally all of sudden into ruefulness at Willow's sincere apology followed by her probing inquiry. Rubbing the back of his head with the palm of one hand, this man with an eyepatch shortly shrugged, to then admit, "Well, one part is because it hits a little too close to home for me. You can't deny there were lots of instances in good ol' Sunnydale when _I_ definitely qualified for your little descriptions, with me even being both a jerk and a creep at the same time!"

At that point, Xander paused as if to give Willow a chance to openly protest against his putting down of himself.

She didn't say a word.

Sardonically cocking an eyebrow at where Willow had hurriedly cast down her glance into devoting an abrupt, careful study of her boot toes, Xander grumped the rest of his explanation, "So, even if those guys out on the lawn there now - and whoever comes along later - really do deserve everything they get, I can't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for 'em, because it could easily be _me _in there."

At those last words, Willow quickly lifted her head to beam in delight at Xander. Except this man missed this, since he'd turned to the side while waving a hand towards the preposterous scene at the rear of the hotel, sending his own male version of the sternest possible Resolve Face upon all there, Slayers and Watchers and everyone else. In an indisputably disapproving tone, Xander snorted, "Plus, I'm not gonna let this go on much longer, even if you said it wouldn't. Blowing off steam is okay, but they need to get back to their real jobs soon-"

"Ah-HAH!"

Flinching slightly from this unexpected whoop of elation, a startled Xander looked at where Willow was triumphantly pointing at him. Blinking at this odd turn in their conversation, the man then heard in growing unease his bestest bud gleefully declare, "Alexander LaVelle Harris, you just showed yourself to be a real, principled, responsible…grown-up!"

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Xander promptly hollered at a laughing Willow.


	6. Chapter 6

The smuggest smile imaginable on her lips, Willow slowly shook her head, just before she chortled at a fuming man, "Nope, not gonna happen. You sneaked it past us, but you're now the dependable guy in charge who takes care of everyone, and is totally trusted by them, with also fixing anybody's problems-"

"I'll blow it up to skyscraper size and hang it against the side of the castle for all of them there to see, if you don't knock it off!" was then perplexedly blustered by a threatening Xander, his own face turning a deep, embarrassed scarlet as he started to hop up and down in his comical wrath.

She naturally had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. Dashing forward, Willow stopped right in front of Xander, and the witch flung her arms around him in an eager embrace. Fortunately, she'd caught him when he was on the ground after his last hop. Feeling his chin now perched atop her head, just like old times, Willow heaved an immensely happy sigh. She became even more satisfied when the woman felt Xander's own arms engulf her in his returned hug.

They stood there together in absolute contentment, until Xander at last wryly commented, "Okay, five more minutes, but that's all. Are you still certain you can't do _anything_ about the whole silly situation? I'm asking again, because right now my blabbermouth bunch out there must've for sure told those three human piñatas exactly what'll happen to them in the next couple of books. Including just how four-eyes is gonna name one of his kids, though I bet he didn't believe a single word of _that._"

From where her face was pressed up against Xander's shirtfront in his hug, Willow sarcastically retorted, "Why not? It makes perfect sense; have the hero show his esteem for two men who either thoroughly manipulated or despised him, just so the writer could finish off with a happy ending and retire to count her loot. Seems fair to me. There's nothing stopping you from doing it yourself, Xan. If you ever settle down with a nice girl and start producing little rugrats, I'm totally positive the first boy will be named Snyder Harris."

Xander promptly guffawed at this first-rate comeback, shaking both his and Willow's bodies in their ongoing embrace. He continued to rest his chin upon the witch's head while she held onto him, fondly listening to her own giggles. Only when the young woman calmed down a little did Xander try again. "Uh, Wils, what I said about fixing it- There's really no way?"

Willow just sighed, her breath tickling Xander's chest through his shirt. She eventually confessed, "Definitely not today, Xan. Your visitors will be gone soon, and when they return to their home dimension, they'll remember it all because that's part of the spell, too. How they deal with it is up to them, but any changes that happen there won't make any difference to the books and movies here. It all goes back to whatever Dawn and I did last night, whipping up such a muddled magical mess that I can't even figure out where to start, much less stop it. I'll keep trying in my spare time, but it looks like you'll just have to warn people about what'll happen here next year, and maybe afterwards."

"Warn, hell!" Xander snorted. "My Slayers and their Watcher accomplices will probably be selling tickets to it!"

* * *

Several years later, this one-eyed man continued to grumpily lean against a tree trunk in the Cleveland Slayers House's back yard. A very cynical Xander Harris contemplated the here-and-now accuracy of what he'd exasperatedly predicted back then against his better judgment, only to be proven absolutely correct.

Out on the rear lawn, there were a dozen people who'd paid good cash money for the opportunity to give a thorough walloping to some seriously obnoxious and/or idiotic individual having no idea of what was about to happen to them. These unfortunate beings, either human or otherwise, would any second now appear inside the steel nets from innumerable different dimensions possessing fictional characters from such popular culture as comic books, movies, computer games, and so much more. Just as it'd occurred every anniversary of when a still-mortified Key and Red Witch woke up without ever remembering how they'd instigated the local event known as Happy Piñata Day. Which in turn was now such a prized tradition that even an extremely aggravated person in charge had to allow his people's participation in it.

Xander's sour face abruptly altered into an unsettling expression of wicked enjoyment. In the end, he'd had his revenge upon those pair of kitchen wreckers, and it'd all been worth it. Even when it subsequently took him a few days to again walk normally. Uttering a throaty, hyena-like cackle, the Head of the Cleveland House was interrupted in this alarming laughter over his cherished Christmas memories by something then transpiring throughout the lawn.

Pausing to glower at the sudden mystical flash of light appearing around each of the steel nets, Xander wearily waited to see just who was going to show up this time-

In the very next second, the Sunnydale survivor's annoyance changed into astonishment, and then strangely enough into actual delight. Something he hadn't previously ever though possible. On the other hand, considering exactly who were those current captives in the nets gawking around at their new location, there wasn't any problem for Xander to then happily declare, "Oh, this is going to be _good!_"


End file.
